


Accounts Squared

by Irrelevancy



Category: One Piece
Genre: Come Sharing, Coming Inside, Cuckolding, Cunnilingus, Face-Fucking, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21768592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrelevancy/pseuds/Irrelevancy
Summary: If he gave story to the fantasy, it would go something like this.Marco continues his oral fixation in every universe. Remix of Accounting for Taste.
Relationships: Fushicho Marco | Phoenix Marco/Portgas D. Ace/Sabo
Comments: 15
Kudos: 81





	Accounts Squared

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Accounting for Taste](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21088061) by [Irrelevancy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrelevancy/pseuds/Irrelevancy). 



> thank you for the request anon ;; I do certainly hope you like this iteration.

If he gave story to the fantasy, it would go something like this.

He and Marco, with matching tattoos and commitments. He knew what Marco liked on nights out like this and he knew what got his own body going. For all his glowy bits, Marco was not a flashy man, preferring to watch and observe before anything else.

And Ace—well, he wasn’t in it for the flash, but for the heat. It wasn’t the type of warmth that could hold him through the winter, but it certainly did the trick, as far as momentary persuasions of _Hey, somebody wants you after all_ went.

So when the Stranger in the woolen lapels got Ace’s attention, dipped his gaze down Ace’s body like a sinking fishhook, Ace parted his mouth gladly for the bait. Marco at his back swiped half-heartedly, missed Ace’s hand, and Ace was off his barstool with a wink.

_Alright, I have two questions_ , the Stranger would start, not sprawling, but certainly not demurring in his seat as Ace approached and approached some more, until he had to crane his neck to meet Ace’s eyes. He never stopped smiling. _What’s your name, and why are you coming over here if you’ve already got your man over there?_

_But I’_ _ve only got the patience_ _for one answer_ , Ace would reply with a grin of crackling timber. _Which do you want?_

_Oh, dealer’s choice then_.

_Well, ‘c_ _ause I want you to fuck me._ Smile going as sharp as the lines of his coat, the Stranger stood up. He was taller than Ace by just a bit and far more thickly dressed. Ace couldn’t wait to swim his hands under all the layers, get him wet with sweat and spit.

_And what_ , the Stranger asked against Ace’s cheekbone, and this was indeed heat. Ace could feel his eyelids flutter shut and hear himself sigh. Could feel the Stranger’s chest puff with pride. _Does your boyfriend want_ _with me_ _?_

_While I’m sure there’s lots he could want from you,_ because Marco’s passion ran deeper than his measured words would have anyone believe, _he won’t get to touch you tonight._

_Ah_ , Stranger laughed. His arms were encircling the small of Ace’s back now, and from the reflection in the mirrors on the wall, Ace could see Stranger waving cheekily at Marco. Marco was blatantly watching, but still sat the same distance away. _So it’s a jealousy thing then?_

_Oh no_. Impatience always took Ace’s hands first; he’d have the Stranger’s face in his grip and lips a scant breath away. It didn’t have to be just a fuck, but it would also never be anything if the fucking didn’t start immediately. _He’s just fulfilling a promise._

_A promise?_

“Nothing but my mouth, yoi.”

Hyperbolic. And, surely, something Marco’s come to regret.

“That,” Sabo whispered in Ace’s ear, as he shimmied his cock just a bit deeper into Ace’s cunt, “doesn’t look like regret to me.”

With a grunt and matching roll of his hips, Ace muttered back, “dammit, I forgot how he gets with this.”

How Ace thought Marco would get: frustrated at being sidelined for the action and desperate for being denied. _No hands_ , Ace had ordered, and thought the eagerness with which Marco slid his hands behind his back a bluff. _You said it yourself._

What was actually gotten: _So I did, yoi._ It’s true that Marco was blatantly hard where Ace had undone his pants and left him in humiliating exposure. Or at least, it was meant to be humiliating. Marco looked nothing humiliated, nothing regretful—just that same dark-eyed parchedness and a jawline aching to _drink_.

“And how are you doing?” Sabo was grunting too, voice gone guttural in his holdout. It was just as well that this game of tease-and-denial for Marco was backfiring on the two of them; Marco had settled so comfortably ( _too_ comfortably) into his ordered submission and had, for all visible intents and purposes, forgotten completely his own desires. Sabo and Ace on the other hand, had been steadily fucking for the better part of an hour now. Out of brotherly solidarity, Ace had refused orgasm (orgasm _s_ ) as well. Now, he could feel the fevered swell of all his soft tissue, and the precipice, temptingly near, seemed just a grind and a bounce away.

So he attempted to convey _all_ of that to Sabo with a single breathless bark of laughter. Miraculously, it seemed like Sabo actually got it.

“Think maybe we’ve lost this round, then?”

In hindsight, Ace should’ve known Sabo had something up his sleeve; the man would never so readily agree to “lose” to Marco otherwise. But Ace had been all too preoccupied by the readjustments of himself on Sabo’s lap (the devilish little _twists_ no doubt timed perfectly by Sabo) to note the dorsal fin on the horizon before he nodded in ready agreement.

“Maybe trying to get him to beg wasn’t the best idea,” Ace admitted. He braced a hand on Sabo’s thigh and began lifting himself up and down again. The friction, so damn familiar now, returned Ace to the peak of a wave with unerring speed, and Ace clenched his walls tight around Sabo to keep the break of the crest at bay (or, to incur it faster—like he was really thinking too hard about it at this point).

“I’ll beg if you want,” Marco husked over the sound of Sabo’s choking moans. Hands bit into Ace’s hips and teeth gripped his shoulder—and Sabo’s hip snapped up. Three, four rapid thrusts before he caught himself and pulled Ace tighter down against him, as if he could physically hold themselves together. “Really yoi. I’ll do it.”

“It’s no fun if you don’t mean it,” was Ace’s breathless answer. With hands buzzing in arousal, he sloppily batted at Sabo’s forearms. “Okay okay, that’s it, Marco wins, I’m tapping out. You can come—”

That was, Ace guessed, the precise cue Sabo had been waiting for, because he shot immediately up onto his knees, leaving Ace to _feel_ all the ramifications. Whatever the choreography of bodies, all Ace knew was the sudden alien emptiness inside him, then the cushioned impact of his back against the bed. Sabo had flipped them, and was now pressing Ace’s wrists up against the mattress. He bore forward with his thighs to spread Ace’s legs again, and Ace was so wet, and Sabo so hard that his dick just slipped easily back in. Breath escaped Ace in a stuttered yelp; the pleasure was changed now, yet still thrumming, still building.

“But what’s his prize for winning?” That was Sabo’s _royal flush_ grin, his _I cheated but wasn’t_ _I_ _spectacular?_ flash of incisor. Ace wanted to bite and beg him both. “How about this: I can come, but you wait for him to give you your first orgasm of the night.”

“First—” He was only dimly aware of Sabo’s hands leaving his, because Sabo’s cock was dragging out of him slowly, until only the head remained teasing between Ace’s folds. Sabo’s fingers traced those lips of flesh, petting from the soft exterior to the tighter rim, like he was planning out some schematics.

Blinking his eyes open with great shuddering effort, Ace tried again. “Why am I suddenly—”

Sabo thrust all the way back. And, when Ace’s hips bucked up on a moan, Sabo grabbed his thighs with strong hands and _kept_ him here. Pulled at and rotated him. Spread him out into the air at an angle for Marco to see. Sabo’s sweaty grin for Marco was so wicked and full of promise that Ace’s knees actually started trembling against the hold, and he swallowed down a whimper when Sabo began to fuck him in earnest.

“Don’t worry if I come in you, right?” Sabo parroted Ace’s earlier teasing words back at him. Ace would’ve been offended, had he any attention left to spare from trying _so_ hard not to come. “Marco’ll clean you up.”

On the armchair in the inn bedroom where Ace had sat him, Marco’s grip was so hard it creaked the wooden frame. Maybe he was a bit desperate after all, just in the way where he so clearly craved to dive _in_ already, his own orgasm whatever was after an afterthought.

“ _Fuck_ —” That was Sabo, at his most thickly appreciative, when Ace dug palms and elbows into the bed, bracing himself for Sabo to thrust into. Their pace had quickly gotten _athletic_ , and Ace was now not only bearing the pistoning weight, but also keeping himself at the most dissatisfying angle (Sabo, of course, just grinned without helping, aiming for his G-spot with shameless aplomb). “—you’re the fucking best, you know that?”

“And you’re the fucking— _god!_ ”

Sabo’s jaw clenched _hard_ with his orgasm, because he had a fucking plan dammit, and Ace knew no one more tenacious than Sabo with a plan. The plan wasn’t to pull Ace further onto him with fistfuls of ass, wasn’t to bury himself deep and pump Ace full with his seed in groaning grinds of pelvis against pelvis. It also wasn’t the opposite, to pull all the way out and leave Ace pink and gaping, leave Ace crying out at the injustice until liquid heat splattered against his folds and creases and burning inner thighs—after which Ace would be crying out in need instead—another sort of injustice.

No. The plan _was_ a perfect middling of the two, and proof, Ace would later ( _much_ later, once the haze of mind-addling lust his lovers always managed to induce in him dissipated) think wryly, that Sabo was probably every bit as into all this as Marco, no matter how much he disassembled. With his thrusts contained to stunted stutters, Sabo came with his cock halfway out of Ace. It was an _odd_ feeling, first geometrically—the instinctive clamping of his inner walls hitting an obstruction halfway through, then Sabo having to grab at him to keep himself inserted—then in the ablutionary sense. Whether it was due to the general dullness of surface sensation on his vaginal walls, or the fact that he was already so fucking overheated inside and out, Ace didn’t initially register the liquid warmth of Sabo’s come. Then, it was _all_ he could feel. Repeating his earlier motions, Sabo pulled further and further out, until once again only the head of his cock remained. Fingers traced and tugged at Ace’s labia again. That _heat_ , all the while, kept drenching at Ace’s insides; to feel another’s orgasm in such torturous tangent to his own denied was enough to provoke the sting of tears in Ace’s eyes.

“ _Oh_ ,” Sabo panted, gaze practically scorching with the desire to more fully consume Ace. Ace stared right back, daring him to. _Fuck_ fair, everything inside Ace was _clawing_ to come, lust so thickly thrumming it just needed that last bit of entropy to bring him to boil, but fucking Sabo _had_ to pick now to think kindly on Marco, to account for the other man’s needs when Ace was in no frame of mind to do it himself and—Sabo looked more than half-convinced to just bring Ace over with him and—but where was Marco the chair was empty and there were hands on Ace there were always hands already everywhere except where he needed them the most and—

“ _May I?_ ”

If he gave story to the fantasy—

— _h_ _e’s just fulfilling a promise—_

“—please—”

That was Ace, teeth gritted with _angry_ desperation—

“—here let me move—”

—why was Sabo moving, _why are you coming over here_ _if you’ve already got_ _—_

—why wasn’t Marco doing the _thing_ he’s promised to do, Ace was really going to _bite_ , or _die_ , if Marco didn’t stop just breathing on him with that ghosting breath, if nobody fucking _did_ something about Ace’s—

“— _fuck_ _!_ ”

When Marco’s tongue _pressed_ , wide and hot against his clit, Ace screamed. His spine shot up in an arch like touching a live wire, and Sabo was there at his back to catch him. Marco gathered Ace closer by the thighs and pressed, and _pressed_ , until every nerve end in all of Ace’s muscles screamed right along with him. His hips stuttered—and he was coming. His entire body heaved into orgasm with Sabo’s chest a solid brace behind him and Marco between his legs and—

Ace could see Marco’s biceps flexing with the strength to keep Ace’s thighs apart. He put his shoulders into it. Sealed his lips over all of Ace. Lined his tongue up, the flat of it pressing apart convulsing folds. And then he licked. And licked, and licked, in time with the pulses of Ace coming then out of time with it—and licked—and put his shoulders into it some more to keep his face there and mouth correctly applied even as Ace writhed, increasingly violently, and _licked_ , until the squeezing, almost _cramping_ tightness in Ace’s cunt pushed its way past _pain_ and straight into a second orgasm. It _burned_. With his head thrown back onto Sabo’s shoulder and voice gone out like a crumpled wick, Ace felt first the helpless shaking of his pelvis in Marco’s grip. Then he felt the trickling—his and Sabo’s come, plus Marco’s saliva—it felt filthy. Humiliating. Depravity itself painted down his fevered skin.

Except… The head between his thighs was moving. That sucking heat detached, leaving Ace to twitch once again at the shock of cold air. He could still _feel_ Marco though, tongue tip morphed pointed as it glided down one side of Ace’s slit, like Marco couldn’t bear to be not tasting him for even a moment. That tongue tip chased after the liquid trails, eagerly lapping everything away until a mortified whine escaped Ace’s throat.

Sabo turned Ace’s face to his and kissed Ace.

“Shall I tell you what I love about you asking for this?” he murmured against Ace’s lips. Ace’s hands scrambled for sweaty purchase on Sabo’s thighs, Sabo’s torso as Marco’s tongue found its way to the origin of all that wet. “Do you know how much it turns me on, when you ask to be _worshipped_?”

“I didn’t—”

The rest of Ace’s reply was lost in a breathless gasp, as Marco smoothed his way inside, all generous caresses and petal kisses from lips to lips.

“You did,” was Sabo’s simple rebuttal. He was still naked, and Ace could feel the line of his cock insouciantly shifting against the small of Ace’s back, neither hard nor fully soft. “You put Marco on his knees in front of you like this? Worship was precisely what you wanted.”

His chest still heaving with his racing heart, Ace stared up at Sabo. Sabo was watching him back with perfect warmth, but also not without a bite of challenge. Marco, meanwhile, was happily mouthing away at him, and Ace could feel that odd geometry again, that clenching emptiness inside of him that craved for Marco to be _deeper._

So, peeling a hand up from where he’d indented five little white dots on Sabo’s thigh, Ace scratched fingernails along Marco’s scalp, slid fingers into Marco’s sweaty hair.

“Good boy,” Sabo whispered, and Ace felt his pectorals flex when he gave Ace that little push forward.

Marco—Marco groaned. A dragging, happy, _guttural_ sound right against the softest tissue of Ace. Marco’s hair in a fisted grip, Ace ground his cunt forward right into that eagerly receptive mouth. The flexible tongue, the accommodating lips, the chin and mandible and hint of teeth. Ace rode himself into a third orgasm, feeling Marco darting in and out of him as he shook apart once again.

And Ace didn’t let up. He slid himself forward all the way up to the edge of the bed until he could stare right down at the top of Marco’s head, pressed into the most sensitive apex of him. Until he could pull Marco’s head back until Marco’s throat was all stretched and bared. Until he could grin, with half-lidded black-blown eyes, down at how fucking _wet_ Marco’s face was.

“I like it when you eat me out,” Ace confessed. Despite the three orgasms, his cunt still felt abuzz with vigor, like with just a short little break (and perhaps a little _more_ —Sabo’s cock back in him, for example, half-hard and filling once more, as Marco’s mouth pleasured them both) he could still go all night. “I like it when you eat Sabo out of me.”

Sabo’s chin hooked over Ace’s shoulder, his arms folding cozily over Ace’s abdomen.

“Told you he’d clean you up.” One hand slipped down past Ace’s belly, past his pubic hair, and dipped straight into Ace’s heat. Sabo’s fingers glided in with little drag, and Ace shuddered when Sabo spread his folds apart. “Not a damn drop left.”

“Do you,” Ace asked Marco, who was still so settled on his knees, hungrily eyeing what Sabo was presenting before him like a feast, “want to come?”

Uncaring of the grip still in his hair, Marco rapidly shook his head. He knew that when he came, when he gave in to the call of his aching dick, this would all be over. Nothing but his mouth.

If Ace gave story to the fantasy, he’d have Sabo fuck him good and hard and glad. They’d roll about the entire bed having the time of their lives. Sabo would tease with his hands and Ace would do that thing with the clenching and the hip-rolling that he’s long since perfected. Sabo would get all the right angles and Ace would apply teeth. They’d articulate between the two of them the path up that cresting wave, and maybe even tip over the break of it together.

And then, as they both laid in panting satiation, Ace would crook a finger. There Marco would appear, the ever-attentive, ever-faithful. And Ace would just be so _touched_ by the devotion of this man, the way the corners of Marco’s eyes crinkled in genuine joy at Ace’s every pleasure. The way Marco _wanted_ him, with no modifiers like _still_ or _at least_ , the Stranger’s come dripping out of Ace making Marco no less eager to _drink._ Jealousy had nothing to do with it, that unpleasant, squeezing feeling. This was all about compersion, glowing and good, about feeling fully desired and appreciated by every party involved.

Heart feeling so full, Ace bent down and licked a wet stripe up Marco’s chin and across his lips. Tasted Marco, and himself and Sabo, back.

“Okay,” he whispered lovingly against Marco’s cheek, “you don’t come.”

Ace fell back into Sabo’s arms, and turned story into reality.

**Author's Note:**

> so I watched Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, right? and was, now at the end of season 3, entirely consumed by the burning need for Phryne/Jack cuckolding kink (um on the off chance anybody knows any, send it my way???). I had to mitigate the thirst somehow so here it is.
> 
> My [Tumblr](https://touchmycoat.tumblr.com/)!


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